


One With You

by Miaou Jones (miaoujones)



Series: Come Together [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: D/s, Love, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-18
Updated: 2009-10-18
Packaged: 2017-10-13 23:50:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miaoujones/pseuds/Miaou%20Jones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England, Australia, and New Zealand have been playing with Canada ever since he confessed his desire for D/s intimacy. Now the time has come for Canada to make the same confession to America.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One With You

**Author's Note:**

> For [Jinsai](http://jinsai.livejournal.com)'s prompt: connection.

"Look at him," England breathes into America's ear, his own eyes never leaving the young man kneeling before the two of them. Canada's eyes flick up to America's face and hold; the lock of that gaze tells England that America is obeying him. "Do what you want with him, America. He's yours. That's what he wants. What do you want to do to him?"

"I don't want to hurt him." America's voice is barely above a whisper.

England keeps his voice low as well. "Then don't. You don't have to break him. Just bend him, as far as he'll go." _And then bend him just a little more._

At last England takes his eyes off Canada to look at Australia. There is no sign of fractiousness: Australia is perfectly still between New Zealand's legs, his hands curled to rest on his own knees as New Zealand finger-combs his hair with deceptive idleness while they watch. That being the case, England catches New Zealand's eyes and, wordlessly, lets him know what is wanted of him.

As New Zealand's hands slide away obediently, England shifts his attention to capture Australia. Receiving the silent direction, Australia goes on hands and knees to Canada. Kneeling up, he winds his fingers into Canada's hair and pulls. Canada goes with the pull, right with the pull—not faster or slower, but yielding exactly with it, as if he has been born for this. When the back of his head touches his feet, perfectly and impossibly arched, England feels America swallow with his entire body.

A fine trembling begins in Canada's limbs. England knows it isn't the physical strain; he has seen Canada hold much more difficult poses for much longer. The trembling suffuses Canada's torso, his eyelids, his cock. With each tremble, he seems to shimmer. His luster is natural. Australia had thought to oil him, but Canada wanted to come to America like this, his skin naked, himself naked inside it.

So they had bathed him, helped him cleanse himself inside and out. "Purging your sins," England had joked as he prepared the first enema.

Canada had looked at him. "I'm not purging you," he'd said, his eyes moving to include each of them, all of them.

Canada's eyes are closed now.

England unwraps himself from America, palm sliding across America's back as he moves around to take America's hand. America goes to his knees before Canada on his own and England guides him the rest of the way, threading their fingers through Canada's hair until they meet Australia. Their fingertips all entwine in the moment before England takes himself and Australia away.

Canada opens his eyes as America brings him out of the arch. The two of them stay kneeling, Canada holding his own hands at the small of his back, America's fallen from him.

"It's all right if you don't want this," Canada says softly.

"Canada."

They look at each other.

When Canada drops his eyes and turns his face to the side, America lets him, and Canada's heart sinks with his gaze.

Then America's hand is on him, knuckles brushing his cheek, fingers uncurling to cradle his face, splayed along and under his jawline. The hand doesn't lift him.

"I want you."

With a deep sigh, Canada closes his eyes, inclines into the hand, rubs along it as he turns his face to America's again.

"Canada." When Canada opens his eyes, America continues, "I want to give you this." The fingers of his other hand kiss the hollow of Canada's throat, the pulse there; caress down his body; follow the curve of Canada's cock to kiss with fingertips the pulse at the head. "I want to give you everything you want."

Canada doesn't think America is even blinking, unless America is blinking in perfect synchronicity with him.

America holds Canada's face with both hands now. "Everything." He comes closer. So close his breath kisses Canada's lips, his words kiss Canada's mouth: "I want to give you the world, Canada, and everything in it. All for you.

"And in return, I only want you to give me yourself. All of yourself."

Canada vibrates in his own veins; the blood running through his heart orgasms.

"Yes?" America smiles softly.

Canada can't speak. He nods.

"Tell me," America murmurs.

Canada still can't speak. It's all he can do to breathe. Then a deeper breath finds words: "Yes," he breathes into America, "Yours."

England watches them in their kiss. He can feel his boys watching, too. He turns and bestows a kiss on New Zealand, a kiss on Australia; slipping an arm 'round each of their waists, he encourages them to kiss each other.

America and Canada are speaking again, too softly to be heard beyond themselves. England doesn't need to hear them, though, because he can see their faces. With a smile, he whispers to each of his boys that they can leave these two alone now. He feels the drag of reluctance in them as they turn, the longing and loss that tugs them to stay for one more gaze, one more touch that won't come; England lets them look and promises with silent touches to make it up to them when they're home.

"Don't go," America's voice calls out behind them before they reach the door. They turn to see him standing now, one hand curled around the back of Canada's neck as Canada remains kneeling. "Stay," America says, "please."

Eyes locked with America's, England feels Australia and New Zealand look to him for how he will answer this. Australia is transmitting his own "please" in the twitches of his fingertips at the small of England's back; New Zealand downturns his eyes to hold in his plea.

"Stay and share this," America says quietly.

"Are you giving him to us?" England asks.

"No." America smiles. "I'm giving _you_ to _him_." He meets England's level gaze evenly.

After a moment, England nods, the corners of his mouth curving up just slightly.

Turning from them, America bends to kiss Canada again. He brings Canada to his feet, and Canada begins undressing him. Australia and New Zealand work together to disrobe England before stripping off each other.

Canada moves with such slow luxury that the others are done first. Kneeling again, Canada extends a hand up to escort America out of his fallen trousers; and now they're all naked. Appreciative gazes are exchanged. New Zealand and Australia go to their knees, flanking England.

Still on his knees before America, Canada says. "I brought something for you."

He moves to rise, but Australia is already up. "I'll get it for you, Canada." Australia doesn't have to rummage deep in Canada's bag before he pulls out a small box, which he carries to them.

Coaxing Canada to his feet, America turns himself to wrap Canada around him from behind. He accepts the box from Australia and opens the lid: "Oh," America breathes. His fingertips feather over one of the cock rings nestled in the box. "Oh, Canada," he looks back over his shoulder, "they're beautiful." Canada's lips part slightly when America smiles, but he neither smiles in return nor speaks. America curves his arm back to touch Canada's neck, twists a little more to kiss his open mouth.

He leans back in Canada's arms when the kiss ends and returns his attention to the box Australia is still holding for them. "Which one is yours?" America's hand hovers without touching either one.

Canada's head is bent. His lips don't move.

"Shall I choose for you?" America suggests.

Though England can't hear it, Canada's lips unmistakably shape the word _please_.

Leaving them in the box, America examines both cock rings with one hand, the other holding Canada's hand at his waist. When he takes out the one with a complication of undone straps, America smiles at Canada's invisible, inaudible response and kisses him again.

"Will you do these for us?" America's gaze sweeps over from Australia to include New Zealand in the request, before flicking up to rest on England.

England breaks eye contact just to glance at Canada. At his sheen, his shimmer.

Returning to America, England touches New Zealand's shoulder, urging him to his feet.

America steps out of Canada's embrace as New Zealand comes to them. He hands Canada's cock ring to Australia, then gives the one for himself to New Zealand. When America moves to stand directly in front of Canada, England shifts his own position to be able to see them both; to see them all, America and Canada facing each other, Australia and New Zealand kneeling to fit and fasten the rings.

Though Australia is nimble, it takes longer to do up the rows of straps that start at the base and go the length of Canada's cock, the top one snugged just under his head. Finished doing America's simpler ring, New Zealand sits back on his heels, hands in the small of his back, eyes following Australia's fingers up Canada's cock.

America runs his fingertips all over the leather on Canada when Australia is done, caressing each encircling strap, exploring his own restraints with his other hand. Only when he's kissing Canada again does he move to touch skin.

With a smile, America asks if Canada brought a special lubricant for tonight, and Canada nods. Again, Australia offers to get it. "He also brought kneepads," Australia adds before America can think of it—or fail to.

America thanks Australia when he returns. He lets Canada put on the kneepads himself, watching closely. When Canada straightens, America holds out his hand and asks for Canada's. Turning it palm up and cupping Canada's hand from beneath, he squeezes a generous dollop out of the tube. Canada rubs his hands together, and as he begins to stroke America slick, America kisses him again.

Now England beckons his boys back to him. New Zealand stays down, coming back to England on hands and knees; Australia comes back on his feet. Before he can kneel by England's side, England whispers for him alone, "Do you _want_ me to punish you?"

Australia, his face slightly downcast, meets England's eyes through his lashes. He starts to shake his head, then whispers, "No."

"Good," England completes the threat his tone has promised: "Then I won't. This night is for Canada," he says, as if Australia needs reminding.

"Yes." Australia raises his face to England now, meets his eyes evenly, daringly pointed. "It is."

They regard each other silently, until Australia can't hold the gaze any longer. He remains standing as his eyes drop. "All right," England says softly, cupping Australia's chin but not forcing him up. He kisses Australia lightly on the lips. His hand and mouth are gentle, his voice soft, but there is no mistaking the warning as he adds, "No more helping, though, unless you're given permission."

Australia nods his understanding and England lets him sink to his knees as he looks at the boy of the evening. At both of them.

Canada's eyes are closed, his mouth open; his legs open, spread for America to kneel between them; his fingers are splayed and digging into the carpet as he rocks himself back and forth on America's fingers, encouraged by America's other hand stroking along his spine. The curve of his spine deepens as America brushes against his prostate; as America's fingertips press and massage, Canada's knees skate out wider, and he lowers himself to his elbows in needful supplication.

Withdrawing his fingers, America reaches between Canada's legs, traces the narrow strap pressed between Canada's balls with his middle finger, drags the pad of his finger back over Canada's perineum, back and up, brushing over the flicker and pucker, then grazing back down, barely touching. He replaces his fingers with his cockhead, teases along Canada's cleft. Canada's responsive whimpers come soft from the shallow recesses of his mouth. America thrills to them; he wants to thrill deeper.

He says Canada's name, request and command and warning and prayer.

"Yes," Canada breathes; _yes_.

America pushes in with luxurious, excruciating slowness, until he's deep, fully seated inside Canada. He holds there, enveloped in Canada's heat, vibrating to the flickers and tremors as Canada adjusts, fits to him tight and hot and perfect. Pleasure centered where they're joined, themselves centered in pleasure, America shifts the center of perfection. Anchoring his hands on Canada's hips, America slides back, slow, sweet friction, drag and caress of nerve endings and sensitized flesh leaving a quivering emptiness in his wake. Then he fills that space again: the space that Canada holds America-shaped.

Immersed in Canada again, America's heart swells; his cock swells and throbs, pulses in time with his heart; he is exquisitely aware of the band he wears.

Sliding one hand around front between Canada's cock and belly, America causes them both to shiver when the back of his hand brushes against Canada's cock. He coaxes Canada upright, seats Canada in his lap facing outward, arms encircling Canada to hold him close. He keeps one hand on Canada's belly as the other moves up over skin softened with perspiration, up to Canada's chest, seeking out his heartbeat, palm flush to feel it. Pulling Canada closer, he presses his own heartbeat to Canada's back.

He says Canada's name softly, and softly, Canada responds, "Yours."

America twists his wrist, hand still covering Canada's heart, fingertips now resting at the hollow of Canada's throat, touching his pulsepoint. Fast and even. He palms the head of Canada's cock, feeling the throb in Canada's throat, feeling the guttural whimper before he hears it. Trailing in its wake, he traces up Canada's throat, tilts Canada's head back as he goes under his chin, then up to his lips. And then inside.

Tenderly, Canada fellates America's fingers as he begins to ride America's cock, pushing back to meet the controlled thrusts of America's hips and thighs.

When the tenderness becomes too much and not enough, America pushes Canada forward onto his hands and knees again and begins to fuck him, not roughly, but with abandon. America opens his eyes, doesn't remember having shut them. He looks down to watch his cock slide in and out and into Canada. He watches Canada move with each thrust, move to it; he watches Canada moving to him. For him. All for him.

Entirely with Canada, America is able to glance beyond to the others now.

England watches America fuck Canada. His boys are watching, too, wrapped around each of his legs as they kneel. He likes the way they feel, the pleasant weight of their heads against his thighs. He strokes their hair as he watches Canada and America some more.

When America surrenders himself and Canada to the fucking, England takes himself out and starts stroking languidly. New Zealand twists to kiss his cock, and then Australia kisses as well; they want more, their tongues vibrate with the desire to give him more, but he won't let them suck. Not yet, he tells them. He lets them kiss his cock again, and they kiss each other around it.

England watches America fucking Canada. Watches America watching him.

As he continues to fuck Canada, America watches Australia and New Zealand with England, kissing England's cock and each other; he knows Canada is watching as well. Canada is breathing so hard, he's almost choking on his own breath. America leans forward and whispers, "You want a cock in your mouth, too?"

 _Yes_ , Canada responds with silent vibrations, and "please, oh please..." America stops fucking him and Canada accepts the loss with a swallowed moan as America comes around to stand in front of him. Australia starts to rise at this, hand on the soft cloth he has at the ready—but America raises a hand to stop him.

With slow and loving deliberation, America traces Canada's lips with his cockhead. Dips inside, gives Canada the head, just the head; just a little taste before he pulls back and kneels down, and asks Canada softly which one of the boys he wants first.

America watches Canada's eyes slide to them. He knows the answer even before Canada closes his eyes, turns his face back to America, and silently mouths the name.

Hand on Canada's head, America stands and strokes Canada's hair with gentle reassurance as he turns to the others.

"New Zealand," he commands quietly, "come here."

New Zealand rubs his cheek against England's thigh, keeping contact as he looks up. As he encourages New Zealand to stand, England lets his fingers slide from New Zealand's hair. He kisses New Zealand lightly, tongue barely entering him before withdrawing, and New Zealand makes to follow into England's mouth—but England has moved back too far to kiss. Far enough to look. England looks deep into his eyes, goes deeper and New Zealand stays open as England's gaze slides in, filling all the space between his tremblings, pushing all the trembles up against each other until his body is humming with vibration.

When New Zealand is full and open, England smiles: "Go."

America receives New Zealand with a kiss. They're standing close enough that their cocks touch incidentally, and New Zealand shivers as his molecules rearrange and vibrate anew. He raises his eyes from the kiss to glance back to England; England smiles at him, strokes the length of his own cock, fist closing over the head as he completes the stroke, and New Zealand flushes warm as he gives himself into America's kiss; sinks down in it until his knees touch the floor. Kneeling too, America smiles at him, smiles at Canada, a hand on each of their faces as he bestows a kiss on Canada's lips, another on New Zealand's; and then America bestows New Zealand's lips on Canada's. America's tongue slides over their joined lips, from one to the other, and they open to him, all three of them kissing, bound together in the kiss.

America slips out of the kiss to retrieve the lube. As he prepares New Zealand, he kisses them into kissing each other again. When he has New Zealand slicked up, he asks if New Zealand can do it himself.

It takes a moment and America's hand on his face again for meaning to penetrate. "Yes," New Zealand says and is rewarded by America's smile, by England's beyond it, by the one he feels in Canada beside him, silently echoing _yes_ , reverberations shivering over New Zealand and warming as his skin absorbs them.

As America rises before them, New Zealand moves to kneel behind Canada. America offers his cock for Canada's kiss and New Zealand enters Canada, driving the kiss into a swallow. Canada begins to suck, wet, needful sounds leaking out from the corners of his mouth as he does.

When New Zealand starts fucking Canada, England takes a seat and brings Australia up to his lap, kissing his neck and shoulders as they watch. As America, Canada, and New Zealand fall into rhythm, England feels a different rhythm on his cock, Australia's fingers unaware of the rhythm of the others. Australia isn't watching them; he's watching England. And when England looks at him in return, Australia says, "You're helping, too."

"Someone has to stay in control," England says simply. But it's not simple, this, all of _this_... It's a complexity of complications, and someone has to stay clear-headed, to make sure they all come through tonight all right.

"Oh," Australia teases, "so that means you?"

England meets his eyes and says, calmly, "Yes."

After a moment, Australia drops the gaze and England just holds him.

He looks at them again: Canada rocking as their cocks slide into his mouth and ass, deep and shallow but always inside; New Zealand on his knees, his hands Canadaht on Canada's hips; both of them looking at America, bound up in America's gaze. And America—

America's eyes are clear. By the time his gaze is on England, England is clear as well. He had only a moment to remind himself that this is America, and that America will challenge him, but not like this; not for this. For Canada, maybe; yes, certainly, for Canada—for Canada, America would do anything. But he would not take New Zealand and Australia from England. It was an honest mistake, born of ignorance, and England thinks too late that these are not ideal circumstances for teaching. It just happened this way, fast, so fast, too fast to slow or stop now; Canada and New Zealand are both too deep in already, Australia is waiting for just one touch to let go, and America—America is clear-eyed. Open.

America does not know he has made a mistake in not asking England's permission for New Zealand, because he thinks he has asked already: "I'm giving _you_ to _him_."

England should have stopped then, to be explicit about his responding nod, to clarify that approval does not equal consent and submission—but he was caught up in the beauty and virtue of America's words, in the sentiment deeper than words, and he wasn't thinking. He wasn't in control. Right there, he lost control. He chastises himself inwardly: the mistake was his.

What's done is done. The important thing, now, is to guide by his own example: England has given control to America, and he will honor that with strength.

England lets time catch up to him as he clears himself, and looks into America's eyes anew.

America's mouth, open to breathe and command and encourage, turns up at the corners as their eyes meet.

Then America's eyes go back to New Zealand as New Zealand says, "I'm going to come," obediently pulling out all the way in anticipation of the command to do so.

"Yes," America smiles. He leans down to take New Zealand's face with one hand, the other buried in Canada's hair as deeply as his cock is buried in Canada's throat. "Come inside him."

 _Oh_ ; and New Zealand does.

America withdraws when New Zealand does. He bends down again to brush his mouth to New Zealand's; then a kiss for Canada. Sitting Canada back on his heels, America gives him another kiss, massages Canada's jaw, wipes up the saliva drooling from the corners, caring for Canada even as he doms him. England smiles.

Then America turns to them. "Australia."

Australia looks to England and England nods. As Australia and New Zealand pass each other, the backs of their hands graze together.

New Zealand comes back to England bright-eyed—a little too much, that brightness a gloss of desire. England knows how much New Zealand would like to be in Canada's place right now. He strokes New Zealand's face, feels the taut trembling in his body even though New Zealand has just come. England arranges New Zealand across his lap so he can watch the others. He watches America kiss Australia, watches America's cockhead kiss Canada's lips, watches them push into Canada and watches Canada accept them. New Zealand watches, and England watches with him, fingerfucking New Zealand as they watch, matching Australia's rhythm in Canada. When a whimper escapes New Zealand, England gives New Zealand's open mouth his other fingers to suck.

When Australia comes back, England gives the fingering of New Zealand over to him. Then England goes to Canada and America himself; his turn to fuck Canada, his turn to receive permissive absolution in the kiss from America.

As America takes off his own cock ring, England looks at Australia and New Zealand reuniting, Australia wrapping around New Zealand from behind without entering him, his cock curving up between New Zealand's thighs, their fingers entwining to hold themselves together, Australia's softness to New Zealand's ache. England used to want to come just from watching them.

He still does.

His eyes flick back when America murmurs his name. They kiss, both open-eyed. Then America kneels and draws Canada's mouth down to his cock. He closes his eyes at the first breath against his cockhead; as Canada begins to suckle, America looks up at England.

And now England kneels, not to them but with them.

It's not long before America arches hard and pulls out to come on Canada's face. He coaxes Canada up, touches his face, kisses him. Looks into his eyes, holds Canada kneeling and shaking hot as England keeps fucking him.

"Are you close?" America asks England.

"I can be," England says; a smile passes between them as England offers his self-control to America. To _them_.

When England has come; when they all have except Canada, America takes the cock ring off Canada. He kisses the corner of Canada's mouth, traces Canada's upper lip with his tongue, slips inside, licks as Canada opens up, sighs and moans. America moves behind him, kisses and licks Canada's hole, and Canada opens up, helpless and wanton. America lifts his head for the others to come to them and they do, kissing and caressing Canada as he jerks himself off, as America licks and sucks their come from Canada's body and swallows them down.

They are not still after, breath and lashes and pulses fluttering, steadying. They aren't still, but they don't move until America gets to his feet. He waves the others down when they shift to rise, too. After a moment, he returns with cloths, both damp and dry. He cleans and cares for each of them, lingering on and with Canada; ritual and reverence, a completeness of the claiming.

England approves.

When America first asked them to stay, he said "please"—but it was not a request; it was politeness, civility. When he says "stay" now, though the word itself is a command, his tone and expression make it a request this time. He looks first to England. England smiles.

America's bed is large enough to fit them all. England mocked him for the custom-made extravagance when America first commissioned it, but he's grateful for America's overindulgent nature now. As they settle themselves, Canada thanks them, gentle kisses and quiet "love you"s exchanged with each and all of them.

America feels Canada reach across him for something, and then feels one of the cock rings being pressed into his hand. "Do you want to wear it again?"

"You," Canada says. "I want you to wear it so I can sleep with you inside me."

America studies Canada as he strokes his face. Then he moves to lie between Canada's legs.

"Please." Canada tightens around America, coaxing him closer. "Please."

"You want to feel me inside you again?" America asks and Canada nods again, their gazes locked together. America pushes himself to his knees. "Up," he murmurs. "Can you kneel up for me?"

As Canada starts to shift, America turns his head the slightest bit and asks the others to help him. Canada starts to turn around for America, but America stops him. Keeping Canada facing him, America reaches down to align their cocks tip-to-tip and begins gently to tug Canada's foreskin, stretching it open to receive his own cockhead. Canada's sigh blossoms into a moan as America slowly envelops himself in Canada's skin; inarticulate breaths, and then, "I love you."

"Love you too, Canada," America whispers against his lips, a slide of words and breath and tongue. Hot moist slide of skin, cockheads kissing inside it; kissing until they come inside, spill out, still connected.

They kiss. Hands help them lie down together.

"How long have you wanted this?"

Canada looks at America, back across time and memory; back to now, looking at America here and now: "1812." His shrug is helpless, ironic even as he smiles.

"Canada." America searches deeper than the hints, deeper than the shrug and smile, going as deep into Canada's gaze as he can. He murmurs Canada's name again. Shifting between Canada's spread legs, America covers him, Canada cradling America's hips with his thighs. America arranges their cocks flush together, lying the lengths of their bodies together, too. His eyes seek Canada's in the light from the night sky coming in through the windows. "I love you. So much. I want this, as much as you do." Canada arches beneath him and America meets him. "Do you know what it means, how much it means to me that you gave me this?" he says, quiet intensity in his words, in their movements. "That you've given me yourself, that you've let me take so much of you, so entirely and completely..."

"More," Canada whispers. He arches again, spreads his legs wider. "Please, America, give me more; take me again."

America runs his hand along Canada's thigh to the knee, curls under and tucks Canada's leg against him again as he shakes his head. "I don't want to hurt you," he murmurs. "It's the one thing I won't do."

"I'm hurting now," Canada says. "I'm aching for you. Empty without you. Please. Please..." Canada is so supersaturated that desire is glazing his eyes, his body, dripping off his very words and breath.

As he begs, Canada fingers himself open without entering himself, and America slides down to soothe with his tongue now, without words, kissing and licking Canada's skin, his fingers, just inside him. Close to abandon, Canada pleads with soft guttural moans for America to take him, to fuck him, again and more.

And finally, America does. He starts fucking Canada again, slow and thorough, pulling out nearly all the way, long slow slide back in, and Canada can't take it—and he needs to take it, he needs this. He begs America to stay inside him, to fill him, oh please... So America holds still, deeply and completely inside Canada. When he starts moving again, it's just his hips, the smallest movements inside Canada, shifts of the fullness.

Inside Canada, America reaffirms his promise to give Canada everything, the world; and in return, he only wants Canada to give America himself. All of himself. To give himself over entirely. "Tell me what you want."

"I want to be close to you."

"You're more than close. You're inside me, deeper than fingers or cock or tongue can reach; I can feel you. You're all the way inside me. Open yourself: can you feel it, Canada, how deep inside me you are?"

Light comes on, low and soft, just enough for America to see Canada's face fully, for them to see each other. America glances over and thanks England with a smile before returning his gaze to Canada. "Look, Canada," America breathes. "Can you see? Can you feel it?"

"Make love to me," Canada responds; "please make love to me," a mantra, a rhythm of intimacy and desire.

"Make love to me," Canada supplicates; and New Zealand murmurs, counterpoint and support, "please yes, please." England drapes New Zealand over him, rubbing their bodies together. Then he sits New Zealand up and settles New Zealand on his cock, thrusting up to establish the rhythm, matched to Canada's words, for New Zealand to ride. Australia lies between both couplings, touching himself everywhere but his cock: touching his body, his face, rubbing his thumb across his own lips and licking at it.

When England says his name, Australia focuses on him. England touches his face, touches New Zealand's, too. Then he moves his hands to New Zealand's hips, to still him and hold him. England's torso contracts and curves as he sits up. He shifts them back to support himself against the headboard, starts moving New Zealand on his cock again, and when New Zealand has the rhythm himself, England cups his face with one hand and kisses him.

He turns again to Australia: "Come here." He kisses Australia, kneels him up and then curves and stretches New Zealand down. Both hands on New Zealand, England cradles his jaw and the back of his head, strokes his thumb along New Zealand's jawline, and New Zealand opens his mouth to accept Australia's cock. England's fingers splay to support New Zealand, caressing and holding him still as Australia mouthfucks him, New Zealand still riding England's cock.

Australia's head arches back, and England realizes it's the tug of Canada's hand fisting in the ends of his hair. Canada is anchoring himself. He can't anchor to America because he's soaring with America, he's _gone_ with America... America joins his hand to Canada's, and Australia turns to kiss their entangled fingers. He wants this. They all do.

They all need it. With words and with his body, Canada keeps begging America to make love to him even as America, with his words and his own body, does. The intimacy is almost unbearable.

And then England understands that it _would_ be unbearable, if it were just the two of them; too much intimacy, the weight of the intimacy too heavy for just the two of them. America and Canada need the others here, to share, to help bear the intimacy. Witnessing and sanctifying it, and more:

America and Canada are in danger of going supernova in their lovemaking and confessions of love, in danger of losing themselves in each other. England thinks America knows it, too, and that's why America wanted the others to stay. Where Canada and America are joined is the singularity; their gaze is the event horizon; touch is gravitation—the touch of the others can balance them, pull them back from the brink before they become consumed by their own selves and love.

"Come when you're ready," America says to Canada.

Canada is moaning and whimpering continuously, but he doesn't come. It's too much for Australia: "America." Australia groans as he pulls himself away from New Zealand, twists and turns to face America and Canada. "He can't." Australia presses back as New Zealand tries to come with him. Snugs himself back, guiding New Zealand's hand between his legs to continue the stroking his mouth had begun. Reconnected to New Zealand, Australia leans forward and dares to stroke Canada's hair, sweat-slick strands clinging to Australia's fingers. "Canada," Australia murmurs, and Canada turns glazed eyes on him; shuts them with America's next thrust. "He can't." Australia stops, then starts again, looking at America. "He can't—you have to tell him to."

America's eyes go from Australia's to England's. Lips fastened to New Zealand's, England meets America's eyes. He continues to ravish New Zealand's mouth.

Canada opens his eyes when America calls his name. "Do you want to kiss Australia?" America asks. Canada turns to look at Australia, who is still gazing down at him, stroking his hair with one hand as his other strokes New Zealand's hand on his cock with the same rhythm. "Canada," America says softly, still fucking him, "kiss Australia."

Canada tilts, arches, opens his mouth, flash of his tongue, already seeking to kiss before Australia's mouth reaches him; and then their lips find each other, their sighs and tongues commingling.

America joins the kiss, then leaves it, only to invite New Zealand and England, too: all of them together, kissing each other. "Come," America murmurs. "Come now, Canada. Come for me," and Canada is already coming as America finishes, "come for us."

America puts his arms around Canada as they spoon up and asks if it's enough to sleep together like this.

"No such thing as enough," Australia says, with a smile that Canada returns.

England watches Australia and Canada murmuring to each other; he recognizes the caresses of praise as Australia strokes Canada's hair. Canada's fingers entwine with New Zealand's, resting on Australia's hip. He joins his own hand to theirs. Murmurs slow into simple breathing, touch quiets as they start to drift...

"How long have you been planning this?" England says quietly, clearly.

"I've wanted you all for a while now," America says, just as softly. "But I didn't plan anything. I've just been waiting for all of you to know what you wanted, too."

"This." It's Canada who speaks soft and true, who says it for all of them: "Just want this."


End file.
